'Daddy, no. Don't go out there!'
'I have to. They're in trouble.'
Hefting the hatchet, Jim opened the door and ran toward them. With four precise swings, he severed the dog's head from its body. Frankie's eyes rolled up as she passed out. Martin and Jim quickly loaded the unconscious woman into the cargo area of the SUV. The dog's head was still attached to her leg like a leech.
Don ducked back inside the vehicle.
'I'm empty!'
'Forget about it,' Jim snapped. 'Just drive.'
They sped away. The zombies faded in the rear-view mirror. The fire became a dull orange glow, and then vanished as Don turned onto a side street.
Martin sighed with relief. 'We made it. Thank you, Lord.'
'Any ideas where we're going?' Don asked.
'Away from here,' Jim said. He probed the dog's teeth, searching for an opening. Frankie's blood seeped out around them. He pulled and the jaws opened, releasing her. The severed head snapped at him instead. A long, scabrous tongue lolled from the dog's mouth.
'Jesus-it's still moving!'
'The blade must not have hit the brain,' Martin said.
Grabbing the head by the ears, Jim rolled down the window and tossed it away.
Frankie's eyes flickered. Her breathing became erratic.
'Where's that bitch going with my baby?' she moaned.
'Is she going to be okay, Daddy?'
'I don't know, Danny. I don't know.'
More darkened homes and a strip mall flashed by them.
Don slowed down.
'What are you doing?' Martin asked.
'The headlights are shot out. Last thing we need is to run into something.'
'True.'
'I'm sorry I freaked out, back there in the garage,' Don apologized.
'Don't worry about it,' Martin assured him. 'These things take some getting used to.'
Don glanced into the backseat. 'How bad is it?'
'She's been shot in the leg,' Jim said, 'and there's a bad gash on the back of her head. This dog bite is on top of the gunshot wound. She's lost a lot of blood. I reckon she's in shock. You got any clean rags in this thing?'
'There's a blanket underneath the seat. We used to use
it for Rocky, but I guess it's clean enough. Cleaner than the clothes we're wearing at least.'
'Who's Rocky?'
'Our-our dog.'
Jim opened a bottle of water and washed her wounds. Then he bandaged them as best he could, tearing the thin dog blanket into strips.
To their left, the New York City skyline rose into the night, the buildings resembling giant tombstones. Don shivered. The city was eerie.
He'd grown up with a view of the skyline and lived in its shadow his entire adult life. With the exception of a blackout, he had never seen it so utterly dark. The towering skyscrapers were enveloped in blackness.
All but one.
He pointed. 'Would you look at that?'
Ramsey Towers, the second highest building in New York City, was lit up like a Christmas tree, the windows flooded with light. A colored strobe pulsed from red to blue on the roof, flashing a beam into the night sky.
Jim whistled softly and a moment later, Danny mimicked him. They grinned at each other.
'Could we make it there?' Martin asked.
'There are easier ways to commit suicide,' Don said. 'Do you have any idea how many zombies there must be in the five boroughs? New York's population was what, eight million? They didn't evacuate until it was too late, and how many people were killed during the riots and looting?
Not to mention all the wildlife; pigeons, rats, cats, and dogs.'
'That's a lot of zombies,' Jim agreed.
'Besides,' Don said, 'it's got to be a trap.'
'What makes you say that?' Martin asked.
'Think about it, Reverend. If you were in a
skyscraper, would you light the building up and let all those creatures know where you were? That's like
